Family: It's Complicated
by Mira Silvia
Summary: AU Dante and Vergil were a team, until disaster struck. Fifteen years later and Dante's dealing with an angry teenage son, mysterious phone calls about his brother, and, of course, evil. Rating may go up due to Dante's colourful lexicon. First in a series of three.
1. Prologue

AN: As I typed up and edited the next chapter, I realized that I had to change the timeline slightly. So now Vergil's demise occurred _fifteen _years ago, not fourteen. Also, a note, this story starts off at a fast pace, I may rewrite it later, but at the moment it will remain this way-it is slowing down considerably as I write, so stick around for the later chapters that are currently posted.

Dante gazed up at the ceiling. No jobs today. Nada. Nothing. Zero. Zip-o-rooney...wait, what was that last one? Geez, the kid was rubbing off on him...talk about the importance of birth control. One day, you're a free-wheeling, demon-hunting badass bachelor without any real responsibilities; the next and some psychotic woman is yelling at you about how difficult you are to track down and dumping a surly teenager on your door-step.

He hated his luck.

Don't get him wrong—the kid was alright. A little mopy and emo sometimes, sure, but overall a good kid.

"Hey, Old man! What's for dinner? And if you say pizza, I'm gonna scream!" a youthful voice hollered from the other room of the office.

Scratch that—the kid was a brat. A stubborn, temperamental, picky,-

Dante's inner monologue was interrupted by the phone ringing.

_A job, a job, a job, a job, a job_!_ Killing things!_ Was the hopefully joyous little mantra that erupted in the back of Dante's mind as he picked of the phone. His devil side could be so childish...

"Devil May Cry, we solve the real nasty pest problems—password?"

_"__Password? I'm looking for Dante Redgrave, is this the wrong number?" _a woman's uncertain voice responded.

Redgrave? That was an old, _old_, alias...hmm...

"Nah, right number—why're you looking for him?" Dante answered.

The woman hesitated, _"__I—actually...I'm looking for his brother. Vergil. Is he there? This is __**really **__important..."_

Dante almost dropped the phone. It had been fifteen years since anyone had (dared) mention his brother around him. His twin that died in his stead, getting sucked into hell.

_"__Hello?"_

Dante ground his teeth together, "Lady, I don't know what you think you're pullin' but it ain't funny. _I'm_ Dante, and mentioning my dearly departed brother is _not _endearing you to me."

"_D—departed?_" the sound of the phone hitting the ground could be heard. Indistinct voices in the background followed. The line went dead.

Well, _that _made a sucky day all the worse. Now he _really_ needed to kill something. When he found out who thought _that_ was entertaining...

"Old man! _Dinner!_"

Damn, he _hated_ Mondays!


	2. Redial and Road Trips

Meanwhile, at the other end of the phone connection...

Valerie glanced at her younger brother, and he nodded. All they knew was that their mother had made a brief phone call, in hopes of tracking down Valerie's biological father, and came out of the room not ten minutes later trying to hide how upset she was.

While Alec ran interference, Val would get the phone and find out just who said what to put their normally somewhat stoic mother in such a state.

Quickly hitting redial, she thought through the possibilities...most likely: her mother tracked down her father and the bastard was no better—or worse—than Thomas(She was ever so happy to drop calling _him_ 'father'). Right then, 'vicious bitch mode' ready to go as needed.

Someone picked up, "_Devil May Cry, we solve the real nasty pest problems—password?_"

_Pest problems? Do you handle bastard step-fathers?...and perhaps absentee fathers? _Val thought before saying in as polite a tone as possible, "Hello, my mother just called, and someone at this number said something that has caused her significant distress. I highly recommend doing me a favour and telling me who said what to her."

Dante had to pause for a moment before replying to that. The icy tone was way too f-ing familiar—somebody really wanted to screw with his head...or he had f-ed up. Either or. "Listen kiddo, I just told her that somebody isn't here. She took it real hard. Don't ask me—never could understand women."

"Who was she looking for?" It took everything Val had to _not_ attempt and reach through the phone and strangle this infuriating excuse for a man. Was he _trying_ to piss her off?

"Why should I tell you?" was the surly answer.

Yes, evidently he was—and it was working. Val ground out, "Because she's looking for my biological father you puss filled, foul-mouthed, piece of scum!"

Now Val heard the receiver hit the floor.

Eventually, Dante regained his composure enough to retrieve it. "Shit, why didn't she say-? But Verge was always—Hell, he never told me, I suppose-"

"Do cease the inane ramblings, simpleton. Get to the point," Val growled.

"Christ that's scary..." Dante muttered. "Kiddo, she was looking for my brother, Vergil...Listen, I'll meet you somewhere..er..where are you?"

She was talking to her...Uncle? Great, she was related to the lout. "Middle of Nowhere, USA, more commonly known as Oregon."

"Oregon? Huh, that's a few days' drive from LA, right?" Dante said, not really looking forward to a road trip with the kid...or leaving Lady in charge of the shop. His bank account wasn't gonna forgive him...

"Saturday, twelve noon, the Starbucks on Clay Street in Portland." and with that, she hung up, and was in the kitchen by the time her mother found her.

Dante sighed, well, it wasn't as though business was booming anyway. "Hey kid! Pack your bags! Road trip!"

"For the last f-ing time, _Old man._ My name is NERO!"

"Whatever kid," Dante retorted, rolling his eyes.

/PAGE BREAK/

This was new to Valerie and Alec. They had always..well, more than most kids anyway, been upfront and honest with their mother—loyal and protective too. Yet now they schemed and plotted at the kitchen table before their mother got off work.

Alec murmured, "So he was shocked?"

"Absolutely babbling," Val responded, sipping her tea.

"So do you think the guy-" "Vergil" "-...Vergil, ran out on his brother too? Or maybe died?"

"Died? No..don't think so, call it a hunch."

"A hunch." Alec stated incredulously.

"A hunch. Instinct, if you will."

"Idiotic hope, more like, sis."

Val rolled her eyes, "You know, continue like that, and I may take advantage of the opportunity to classify you as my half-brother."

Alec winced, "Ouch...this is how you treat the guy _helping_ you?"

"Then be grateful you aren't my enemy," Val smirked.

"Alright, cut the evil mastermind crap—what's up with Saturday?" Alec snarked.

Val set down her tea, "I have already arranged an alibi with Teresa..."

"But?" ventured Alec.

"She wanted to tag along," Val sighed.

Alec grumbled, "Oh, _she _gets to go, but _I _have to stay cooped up in the house. _Thanks._ We're supposed to be siblings!"

Val rolled her eyes, "Siblings. Riiiight...Honestly, it's not like we're twins or something."

Alec shrugged, "Same hair, similar eyes, similar complexion, complete each others sentences—close enough!"

And so it continued, banter and the odd threat mixed with productive planning.

/PAGE BREAK/

Meanwhile, somewhere on the I-5...

The kid was blasting some metal band he didn't recognize through those old(looks like they shouldn't function anymore) headphones. But hey, at least he had quiet!...oh, wait..that meant alone time with his thoughts. Shit.

So Vergil might have had a kid. A daughter. That was just...it was _Vergil_ for f-'s sake! _Vergil!_ But still..._might. _After all, he'd never heard of Verge having a girl on the side...and they were brothers, twins—he'd hear about something like that.

Right?


	3. Coffee, Glacial Glares, and Trouble

**AN: I'm in a pretty good mood(came in 3rd in a semi-national poetry slam, yay!) so I decided to update early. Enjoy!**

Valerie sat in the corner of the coffee shop, eyes on the only entrance. Her mass of dark hair pulled into a severe bun above cold blue eyes. Her long legs were crossed beneath the table, clothed in neatly pressed black slacks, her blue dress shirt peaked out from beneath the slacks' matching suit jacket. "When in doubt—formal and intimidating" was one of Val's many philosophies(it sat right between such gems as "Don't get angry, get even" and "What doesn't kill me should start running"). Plus, this gave an illusion of greater age. She was actually fifteen, but most of the coffee shop thought she looked at least eighteen—and Val wasn't about to correct them.

Teresa was sitting at another table, attempting to look casual(and failing miserably). Her hazel eyes glancing around and she occasionally twitched like some scared rabbit.

No description, only a voice and name to go by. Rushed phone calls oft make idiots of us all, Val mused.

As Dante walked into the coffee shop,he had to work at keeping calm—she was _definitely_ Verge's kid. Same look in her eyes, same eyes, same complexion...similar style sense; hell, kinda smelled like Verge(right down to that musty book smell). By some miracle, though, she'd dodged the family hair. _Lucky_, thought Dante as he approached the counter to order, noting the icy eyes watching him.

Val (and a good portion of the rest of the shop)watched as a tall man entered. The most striking part of his appearance was his silvery white hair, even though he didn't look a day over thirty-five. He wore a leather jacket over a sanguine coloured shirt, matched up with black jeans. Val watched him, not for the reason most of the women in the shop did, but because he unsettled her. Her mother always said to listen to her gut instincts—and they were saying(screaming, really) that this seemingly laid-back man was dangerous. So she watched him carefully as he ordered something fruity and flirted with the barista(who was blushing madly by the time his order was ready).

She carefully schooled her features so as not to show any surprise when he approached her table.

"Hey kiddo, I'm Dante. Looks like I'm your uncle." He said bluntly, taking a chair. Seeing the incredulous look she was shooting him he explained, "You've got the family eyes and Verge's glare—it's pretty obvious now that I see you."

"Hn," Val still looked him over disapprovingly. There wasn't anything _dangerous_ about him, other than his height and build, which she supposed gave some form of advantage in a confrontation.

Dante stared at her, "Jeez, you even talk like him...that'll take some getting used to. By the way, nice thought with the backup over there; but she's a bit obvious."

Val nodded, "She can be—but there are advantages in directing people's attention."

"Well, you got his chessmaster paranoia too, waddya know," Dante smirked.

Val saw a flicker of something like grief in Dante's eyes.

Dante glanced around again, "Say, where's your mom? Thought she was the one tracking all this down?"

Val took her time to answer, "The process has been...emotionally taxing. She deigned keep my brother and I in the dark, hence I feel a minimum of guilt to do with this meeting. After all, if it had been a dead end, it would have been for the best she never knew of it."

Dante said, "Right...little cold, but I see what you're—hold up, brother? You got a twin or something?"

"Half-brother. It came to light recently during my mother's rather messy and bitter divorce from his father," Val said, ice in her voice. The bastard had hurt her mother, he deserved no mercy if she got a hold of him.

"So, no idea how Verge figures...?" Dante asked.

"Besides being my father? None." Val sipped at her chai. Silence prevailed. "What happened? From what I could glean, mother seems to believe he did a runner."

Dante clenched a fist, but reminded himself that it could look that way...be logical, be logical. "We...he and I had a pretty dangerous job. I underestimated a situation and Verge...Verge..." He hung his head for a moment before looking up. "He never said anything about you or your mother or I would have said something...helped..." He sighed. "Past is past though, right?"

Shifting the subject sightly, Val asked, "'Dangerous job'? What, were you hitmen or something?" she smirked.

"'Or something'..." Dante said, glancing around. Demons. F-ck. Not now of all times. He didn't even know if Verge's kid(Val, right?) knew shit about them. He got up and made his way to the back of the shop, "Be right back kiddo."

As soon as Dante was out of sight, Teresa ran over, "So that's your uncle? Seems nice enough...erm..."

Val looked up, "It's closing in on 12:30 and you need to leave, but don't want to leave me alone. Don't worry, I'm covered. It's crowded, I have my phone, Alec knows where I am, etc."

Teresa smiled and said, "But you will tell all later! You know I love family dramas..." before heading out the door.

As Teresa left, someone walked in that caused Val's stomach to do a very uncomfortable flip-flop.

Her mother.

Myra Reinhardt was a decent looking woman of thirty-five. Her dark hair was the same midnight shade as her childrens', and her flint grey eyes had been inherited by her son. She carried herself in a somewhat world weary, confident manner. Still, considering that in the past few years life had put her through the proverbial wringer, she was looking pretty good.

Myra smiled, "Val, I thought you were out with Teresa today?"

Val forced a smile and said, "She just left, things ran a little long. I was actually about to call you."

Myra's eyes narrowed. Like many mothers, she could practically smell lies. She was about to interrogate her daughter when a number of things happened at the same time.

First, the fire alarm began blaring, causing the shop to begin to empty.

Second, a huge, repulsive, scythe wielding_ ...thing _came charging at Myra from the back of the shop.

But that wasn't what gave her pause, or rooted her to the spot.

It was the man running after the thing, swinging a huge sword, yelling, "Get back here, you fugly sonofabitch!"

He looked exactly like..."Vergil?"

**AN:Anything unexplained should be tied up in this story at some point-if it's something small and inexplicable you think I may have/will overlook, review or PM me. I am a new writer, so input is needed/appreciated :)**


	4. Demons, Driving, and Packing

**AN: Big thank you to the three people currently following this story! Kyroo Echoes, C.S.Y. Shadows, and Jimli! And further thanks to Jimli for reviewing!**

**Well, today was when I was originally going to post chapter 3, but I'm pretty far ahead in writing, so here's four. Five will probably be up next Monday(maybe sooner).  
**

Valerie had only frozen for a split second as the scythe flashed through the air before diving toward her mother. As her left shoulder struck her mother's right arm, a stabbing pain made itself known in Val's right shoulder, causing her to cry out. Her world turned black.

"Valerie!" Myra cried out, scrambling back toward her daughter.

Dante finished off the Lust with Rebellion, while running through every foul word he knew(which was quite an impressive collection). Calming himself(to the outside observer at least), he knelt next to Val and Myra and did his best to stem the bleeding—she wasn't healing quickly. Not. Good...still faster than a normal human though. She'd make it...now to get her behind some nice strong wards. That meant he'd have to...Damn it...

Val's mother was working to apply pressure to the wound, and talking to her daughter("I'm already dialing 911, you'll be fine sweety" "Stay strong"), but Dante occasionally had looks tossed his way that screamed 'I want answers and I damn well will have them'. Damn it again. How did today get so out of hand, so quickly.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Myra snapped as her phone was pried from her hand and snapped shut.

After finishing off the make-shift bandage on Val's shoulder(damn demons—he liked that shirt), Dante picked his niece(still a strange thought) up, saying, "If you want her safe, and you want answers, follow me—there are more where _that,_" he indicated the sparse remains of the Lust, "came from. Oh, and taking her to the hospital is a shit idea. Been there, had that nightmare!"

"What are you talking about? And what _was_ that thing?" Myra questioned, helplessly following Dante out the door and toward a red '67 Impala.

"Let's just leave it at those things are going to come for her no matter where she is,-" Dante was interrupted by Nero opening the car door and saying, "Jeez old man, do people always get this roughed up around you?"

Nero soon quailed under Dante's glare though. It wasn't the usual annoyed glare, or the occasional pissed off glare—this was all out icy "shut up and get back in the car before I end you". Nero shivered and opened the back door.

Ignoring the guilt that the kid's words had brought roaring to the surface, Dante gently placed Val in the back seat, then gestured for Myra to get in next to his injured niece.

Myra cast a doubtful glance between the front and back seat, but quickly scrambled in next to her daughter. It's truly amazing what threats to life and limb do to people's decisiveness.

_And judgement,_ Myra thought. Any other day of the week, she would never have been in a situation like this.

_Any other day of the week, a scythe wielding monster don't stab your daughter, _ a small voice reminded her. As they rolled down the street, she cradled the still unconscious Val's head and came to another decision.

"Are things like that after...after my family? Or just you?" she asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer, _Val, Alec, forgive me for this mess..._

Dante didn't turn around, simply saying, "I'm amazed they haven't come after you before...they haven't, right?"

Myra shook her head, "I've—I've never seen anything like that. We need to get my son, he doesn't know anything about any of this, he's-"

Dante lifted one hand off of the steering wheel, "Chill, it's fine, just tell me where to go. Oh, and Val'll be fine—the wound really isn't as bad as it seems—mostly shock—a week—tops—and it'll be nothing more than a bad memory." He flashed a reassuring smile to her form the rear-view mirror.

Myra wasn't sure what to make of that smile. Like Vergil's, it had something predatory about it.

/_/PAGE BREAK/_/

Alec flipped through the channels idly, then glanced at his watch. They should be back by now...then again, maybe Val went all psycho on the guy and the police were still cleaning up the mess. He'd pay to see that.

Smirking at the thought, he turned off the television, and strolled into the kitchen now intent upon hunting up some form of snack. Let's see...nope, nope...was that even good anymore? *sniff* Hell no! Into the garbage, slam dunk!..no...he hated that stuff...score! Pickles! Ha, Val thought that putting them behind the tuna casserole would save them? Foolishness, sister, foolishness!

Munching on his spoils of fridge-plundering, Alec glanced out of the front window...and stopped mid-munch.

As Myra practically flew through the door, she spotted Alec and started rapid firing orders and packing lists, "Go into your sister's room and get-"

Alec held up his hands in a calming gesture, "Whoa—mom—hold up, what's going on?"

"I'll explain after you pack! Essentials only!" Myra said, once more in full 'I am mom and my word is law' mode.

Alec's eyes went wide, "Ooooookay then...going, packing..." _Did the shit hit the fan? Was this Vergil guy part of the mafia or something? Nah...mafia guys aren't called 'Vergil'...they're called 'Vinny', 'Louie', or 'Tony'. _And so Alec's thoughts meandered as he unceremoniously stuffed his sister's meticulously folded clothes into a duffel bag. Eventually, he realized that his mother really was at wit's end about something. 'Cause there were _some '_essentials' he wasn't touching in a million years! He slammed _that_ dresser drawer shut with seldom seen vehemence. Shuddering he found his mother packing her own bag, and said, "You're up mom, there are things in there I am _never_ touching. Ever."

Realization dawned on Myra, "Oh dear...I'm sorry, it's just-" She stopped, now was not the time for that conversation, "Get all of your things together and wait by the door."

But Alec didn't. Leaning against the door jam, he said gently, "Mom...what's wrong?" He knew that it took a lot to make her act anything like this. Even when Thomas(like hell he'd call the bastard 'father'!) had been in one of his rages...and all that those entailed(absentmindedly rubbed at a scar on his arm), she wasn't this frazzled.

Myra zipped up the packed bag and sighed, "It's...a long story—I don't even know all of it."

Alec nodded at that, for once not being flippant about something, "It has to do with Vergil, right?"

Myra's head snapped around, "How do you know that name?"

Alec smirked somewhat forlornly, "As Val would say, 'My dear mother, we are not dimwits'-it's called redial."

Myra sighed, "Yes...Vergil." With that, she marched toward Val's room, quickly finished packing her daughter's bag and marched resolutely to the door, Alec shadowing her.

/_/PAGE BREAK/_/

Meanwhile, with Valerie:

Valerie looked around...she appeared to be in a poorly lit library. Shelves stretched far overhead, filled with leather bound books of ever shape and size-some ancient, and some seemingly not even a year old. The wood in the shelves and molding was beautifully carved, and upon closer inspection, she realized that it depicted beasts and demons. _Strange._

She could safely say that she had never been here before...yet it was oddly familiar. _Stranger still._ It was a nicely appointed space, luxurious royal blue carpet to dark stained wood ceiling.

Turning a corner, she saw a fireplace with two dark blue chairs and an end table(that continued the carving motif from the shelves) sitting in front of it. But this was not what held the majority of her attention. It was the figure sitting in one of chairs, the firelight making it difficult to tell if they were blond or had white hair. As Valerie approached, they snapped the book they had been reading shut and stood, gesturing to the other chair, "It is nice to finally meet face to face...shame about the circumstances, however."

TO BE CONTINUED

**AN:Anything you see that _may_ be a reference to something, probably is XD Review if you spot any for virtual cookies.**

**Oh, and question: should I pull Patty in at some point(for a periphery, minor, or major role)? She was never a favourite, but she can be fun to write.**

**Review response:**

**Jimli: Nice to know that this style works :) I was a little concerned that it would seem too rushed or frenetic. **


	5. Strangeness, musings, and near misses

**AN: another early update...so much for a schedule. **

Valerie looked the figure up and down, she(for it was a she) looked almost exactly like Valerie, save for the silvery-white hair and something...feral about her. "Who are you?" she queried.

The other smiled(was it just Val or were those teeth a little too sharp?), "Right to the point then, good. To put it succinctly, I am you—we're two sides of the same coin."

Val cocked her head to the side slightly, "So this is..." she waved her hand around to indicate the library.

"Your—our—whatever...mindscape. Hence why we can just chat...y'know instead of what usually happens: I yell myself hoarse and you still ignore me." Other said, laughing humorlessly.

"Are you my subconscious? My Id?" Asked Val, _that would explain her somewhat feral nature._

"Nah, nothing so pedestrian!" Other said, smirking. "I'm a whole set of memories and instincts that you decided to lock up...mostly, or else I wouldn't be here."

Val frowned, sitting down, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Other flopped across the facing chair, feet dangling over one of the arms, "I'm something that runs in dear old dad's side of the family."

Val glared at Other, "You haven't answered the question."

Other waved her off, "Eh, talk to your uncle when you wake up."

"That uncouth excuse of a man?" Val inquired, sneering slightly.

"Hey, he's family—and trust me, especially in _this_ family, that counts for a lot. Give the guy a chance," snapped Other. "Besides, he saved our life and mother, doesn't that earn him at least one chance?"

Val sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Fine. One, and only one. However, it had better be worth the work to refrain from doing him bodily harm..."

Other gave a derisive snort, "Like we could do him permanent injury!"

"Height, weight, and reach are all advantages one may be mitigated given the correct conditions," Val sniffed.

Other rolled her eyes, "Not what I was referring to, genius. Remind me why I'm the submissive personality again? 'Cause you're an idiot. How about I help my dear mentally handicapped counterpart out? That thing that attacked mom? That was what hunters call a 'Hell Lust'-nasty things."

"Hunters? Hell lust? What are you talking about?" Val frowned. She loathed, absolutely _loathed_ not knowing about things that directly effected her.

"You're very demanding, did you know that?" Other sighed. "Ever hear of 'attract more flies with honey than with vinegar'?"

"Are you calling yourself a fly?" Val smirked, happy to have a ready retort for once in this conversation.

"If I am, you are," Other replied in an annoyingly sing-song tone that Val shuddered at hearing—that was her voice dammit, and it was not to be used in such a manner!

"Why do you insist upon being so—so—so—" Val actually stuttered, at a loss for words.

"Unhelpful?" Other smirked, "I guess it's fun to finally be the one doing the ignoring..."

"I didn't even know that you existed!" Val raged at Other.

"Not my problem—that's your fault, moron," Other rolled her eyes. "I've always been here. Ever wonder why you never caught a cold or the flu? Or why you've never had a broken bone?" Other paused. Then a smile lit her face, "Or when you slammed Thomas into the wall a few years ago? We were, what, twelve? Seriously, the guy's a fricking gorilla—you didn't think that was strange?"

Val frowned, "Strong immune system, luck and care, and finally adrenaline. Excellent explanations."

Other laughed, "Ah, ignorance 'tis your frail bliss, but methinks it time to gaze into the abyss!"

Val raised an eyebrow, "Was that supposed to be poetry?"

Other smirked, "Maybe I'm just a rhyming devil, but that would be a rather unlikely power level. Now 'tis time for you to wake, but you'd best be back, for everyone's sake."

Val growled, "This has become far too-"

She opened her eyes, "-strange..."

The room she found herself in was dusty—very much so, though someone had apparently had the decency to change the covers of the bed she was laying on. The room was decorated in muted tones of blue, gray, and black. The furniture(bed, desk, chair, nightstand, and bookshelves) all had a simple, yet timeless style. It seemed as though whoever was here previously had left with little warning.

The desk still had books open upon it, long covered in a blanket of dust—the same went for the sparse nicknacks, such as the single photograph on the bedside table. Wiping the layer of dust away yielded the image of a beautiful blonde in red. Val noted that the woman's smile didn't quite seem to reach her blue eyes. Sad...and strange. Why would someone keep such a melancholy picture of someone they obviously cared deeply for? Mother always made sure all the picture of she and Alec were candid and smiling...

Setting down the picture, Val's eyes were drawn to the one thing in the room free of any dust. Sitting propped up in a corner, just peeking out from behind one of the bookcases, was what appeared to be the handle(_Tsuka_, if she recalled the terminology correctly) of a katana. Feeling a pull toward the blade, Val approached. Gripping the saya, she slowly drew the blade, feeling an odd, comforting warm sensation run up her arm, as though the sword were greeting her.

Hearing someone approach the door, Val quickly noted that the footfalls did not belonging to either Alec or mother. As the door opened, she whirled around-

Earlier:

Dante glanced at the clock; six a.m. Two hours since he'd managed to convince Myra that yes, Val would be fine, no, he wasn't some psycho, yes, he'd let her know just as soon as Val was awake, yes, he was just trying to keep everyone safe. After she'd made him go shopping for tomorrow's..er..today's breakfast. _Shopping. _At a time like this. Women were all absolutely insane...this was just further proof.

He leaned back in his chair in the dining room and listened to the house. Nero was still sound asleep, but his headphones were still on. Myra's other kid(Alec, he reminded himself) originally had been asleep on the couch, but Dante had heard him sneak upstairs at five thirty and sit down in the armchair in the room Myra was in. The kid was either scared and wanted his mother, or was really protective. Going by the previous day's glares and veiled threats, Dante was willing to bet it was the latter. Kinda reminded him of himself, really, if he was being honest.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, letting his mind wander slightly. He really didn't want to be here, but there wasn't much of a choice—his wards sucked plain and simple. Sure the shop had some of the basics, but it wasn't perfect, and it had also taken him the better part of a decade to set up. And it was in L.A. That was a bit of a problem. This house, for all that he didn't want to be here, was pretty much air tight. Wards were always Vergil's strong suit, not his.

He'd never realized how good his brother had been at that shit until he'd checked the wards yesterday. Verge had been bound and determined that nothing and no one could even find this place—let alone attack—that didn't have a personal fucking invite. He'd even put some preservation and repair wards up.(Just on the house, unfortunately, the yard was a damn jungle) That definitely kept the scariness in the fridge to a minimum-it was still like something out of a crappy b-movie, it just took less time to clean up-he had still been tempted to use Ebony and Ivory on it though. Who knew fifteen year old pizza could be so unfriendly?

A sound roused him from his musings. Dante cocked his head to the side and listened more intently. Yup, kiddo was up and poking around.

Oh...shit...he'd forgotten that Verge had loved to booby trap things...(maybe 'cause he had always liked to 'borrow' things...) _shitshitshitshithshit! _Why the hell did he think putting Val in that room was a good idea? _Because you are an imbecile_ said a little voice that sounded oddly like Vergil.

He speedily(yet quietly) raced up the stairs and toward the disaster in the making.

Opening the door, he was suddenly thankful for his superhuman reflexes, bringing an arm up to catch a weak swing from Yamato that was aimed at his neck. He felt the blade strike bone and used his other hand to jerk the sword from Val's now somewhat loose grip. "Easy there kiddo—that ain't a toy."


	6. Let me tell you a story

**AN: Note upon "Other". I know it's an unconventional way to portray a character's Devil side, but I figured that everyone deals with it a little differently. Val just personifies hers as a method of coping with it. Feel free to let me know whatever you think about it :)**

Val swung before registering much about who was coming through the door, her hands seemingly guided by reflex. Some small part of her mind registered that she considered whoever it was a threat. As soon as she felt blade meet flesh, she slacked her grip on the weapon. When she saw the blood running down the blade, her scowl of determination shifted to an expression of shock. She didn't bother trying to resist when the sword was pried from her grasp. Words eventually made it through the haze of shock, "Easy there kiddo—that ain't a toy."

Val shifted her gaze from Dante's injured arm to his face. Miraculously, his expression didn't betray any pain, or anger for that matter. She could have killed him! "I'm-"

He waved off what was going to be an apology, and applied pressure to the wound, "It's not a problem kiddo—I've had worse damage from this sword. This little paper cut is nothing." He smiled sadly. "Just, y'know, try not to aim for my neck next time, 'kay?"

"S—sure..." Val said slowly. "But shouldn't you-?"

"Bandage? Stitches? Nah, it's not as bad as it looks, kiddo—your technique's sloppy," Dante smiled in a cocky manner.

How could he take her nearly decapitating him so calmly? _Talk to him, idiot! I mean it!_ Other broke in. _Shut up, I am not dealing with you right now._ Val answered. _If I were to be evil, it'd be a shame; be a good little girl and play my game_. Was Other's infuriating rhyming retort.

Dante looked at Val like she was a puzzle for a moment before saying, "I think we need to talk..."

"Oh, really? About what pray tell?" Val scoffed, facade of calm back in place, pointedly ignoring the ferrous tang the fresh blood left in the air.

Dante seemed to go down a mental list, "What attacked earlier, your dad, your grandad, that odd look that flitted across your face a second ago, and, oh yeah, where the hell you learned to wield a katana. That should just about cover it. So, here or the kitchen? Your choice kiddo."

Other was practically jumping for joy, _Thank you Uncle Dante! Not everyone's an idiot..._

_ I could still refuse to speak with him_, Val returned.

_Sure, you do that; maybe he'll nickname you 'brat' ,_ said Other smugly.

"That, right there, that expression," Dante interrupted. "I saw it often enough from Verge. Lemme guess, annoying little voice in the back of your head? Possibly the reason you tried to separate my head form my shoulders? You aren't crazy—well, in this family, that's relative..."

Val glared at him , "Just tell me what it is. I only want to know how to shut her up."

"Sit down kiddo, this could take awhile," Dante sighed.

Val sat in the chair by the desk, crossing her arms. Dante sat on the bed. When he didn't immediately begin explaining, Val lifted one eyebrow at him, eliciting a sad smile.

"Damn, you always act like him?" Dante paused before saying, "This is a long story, and you probably won't like it—fair warning." He glanced at Val.

She shrugged, "Life is not a pleasant little fairytale."

"Funny you brought up fairytales...You ever hear the Legend of Sparda?" Dante asked.

"Mother used to read it to me, and I saw that movie they made about a year ago," Val answered.

"Right...well, devils and demons are real, and Sparda did exist and sealed the realms from each other-but both the stories you heard are pretty far off the mark. The thing that attacked yesterday was a low-level demon that hunters like me call a Hell Lust."

Val nodded slowly, "That was the 'dangerous job' you mentioned yesterday?"

Dante's face went slack, "Yeah...Verge...he...he got pulled into Hell by one of our old man's enemies."

"So...my grandfather hunted as well?" Val queried.

Dante nodded, "Yeah, you could say that—mom was more the 'usual' hunter though—queen of the business there for a while. Dad...he's a story unto himself, really."

"I surmise anyone who has made enemies in hell is..." Val said slowly, still processing all of this.

"Yeah, well, pops had them longer than most—see, that's were that little voice comes in. That little piece of joy is something that we get from his side of the family." Dante said, thinly masked resentment in his voice.

Val nodded slightly, right, so her grandfather was a touchy subject with Uncle Dante...

"Let me tell you a story—okay, that sounded corny, even for me—but anyway...

So a huntress is hired to wipe out a bunch of Hell Prides—simple enough, they're slow and stupid. It's easy money, so she takes the job. She's making mincemeat of them, as expected, when a problem comes up. Turns out, it wasn't a bunch of random Hell Prides, there was a devil controlling them. Now, she's a great huntress, best in the business, actually, but she just doesn't have the ammo left to deal with the big ugly. But her being her, she gives it a go.

Now here's where the story changes depending upon who was telling it—I'll be telling the huntress's version," Dante smirked. "So she's holding her own against this devil—who is mightily ugly, or so the tale goes—and finds it to be pretty predictable based on her wealth of experience."

"If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles." Val said, finding comfort in the familiar quote.

Dante smiled, "'Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance'...Sun Tzu." It was one of the books he had caved and actually read when he and Verge were kids. They'd both taken their own lessons from it. "Anyways, just as she's about to land a vital blow, a hunter comes out of nowhere, swinging a sword and dressed in purple. Now, hunters are generally an odd lot, but even in that crowd this guy sticks out. He's pretty tall, wearing an old-style suit mostly in purple, with red accents, has the sword, and of course, then there's his silver/white hair."

Val caught on to who that was supposed to be. _Purple? Mental..._ she thought, to which Other replied, _Ah, but purple was once considered a royal color._

"Anyways, he ends up killing it. Now, amongst hunters, that is a big ol' nono. Never, ever take someone's kill. If you think they're about to die and that they're worth it, give it a shot, but they might kill you later. This is because of the bounties—you collect on what you kill, that's that. So the huntress marches up to this guy intent upon at least crushing his ego-—-maybe something else-—-and she notices something. His shadow.

It isn't the shadow of a human, but of a pretty tall, scary-as-hell-looking devil."

Val frowned at this, perhaps her assumptions were wrong..._Idiot_, Other muttered.

"So she goes for her gun and unloads a clip into his head, as any hunter or huntress would. Thing is, he gets back up, not even cursing—and just sighs, and says 'Was that really necessary?'"

"That seems to be an_ ...odd _reaction..." Val ventured hesitantly, as some of the pieces began to fall into place.

Dante snorted derisively, "I'll agree with you there; if it was me, I'd have been pretty pissed off. But hey, hunters shoot first and consider asking questions later—that's how you stay alive.

Of course, his reaction is not what the huntress thought it would be. After lots of yelling and cursing, he eventually manages to get a word in edgewise.

He says that he isn't her enemy, didn't mean any harm, forgot how territorial hunters are, yada yada yada. She's not buying it, but doesn't bother shooting him again because: a) didn't work so well last time, and b) devils aren't big on the whole lying thing—they can, but they _really_ don't like to. Namely 'cause they're terrible at it, if you ask me...and c) he hasn't moved to harm her during all of this, not once. All of this it is really weird behavior in her book."

When Dante paused for a breath, Val asked, "Are you trying to tell me that my grandfather wasn't human?"

AN: And that's it for now. Yup, I've evil, I'm unpleasant, I'm loathsome-but I'm also a busy little bee at the moment. There should be more in a few days time-so I am humbly requesting patience.

Many thanks to those who have favourited, followed, and reviewed this piece. :)


	7. Books, Breakfast, and Names

**AN:Many apologies for the last chapter-and here is my peace offering:**

Last time:

_When Dante paused for a breath, Val asked, "Are you trying to tell me that my grandfather wasn't human?"_

Dante let out the breath slowly and ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously looking like his twin for a split second. Damn, she got right to the point...hell, who was he to complain-he'd been beating around the bush anyways, and hadn't been terribly likely to get to the point.

Meanwhile, Other was practically dancing around Val's head, _Finally! Genius girl puts two and two together and realizes that it makes four! _Doing an immensely good job of pissing Valerie off. _A reckoning is coming, you infernal little thing-and I shall be laughing._

Val could practically hear the smirk in Other's smug voice, _Oh, I'm __shaking__...I can barely stand, this fear is so paralyzing..._

Val growled, _Just shut up._

Dante nodded, "Yup."

Val raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Riiight...proof? I'll accept the hunting demons aspect—but this?"

"Have you seen your shoulder kiddo? I bet there isn't even a scar—and then there's this-" He held up the arm that Val had cut open using Yamato. Rubbing away the majority of the quickly drying blood, he revealed that there wasn't even a mark left. "You struck bone kiddo—maybe even nicked it –for most people that's at least a hospital stay." At her disbelieving look, he laughed, "If you want more proof, Yamato's right there—er, just _no_ decapitation. Other than that, I'm pretty near indestructible."

Still mildly shaken, Val said, "Pass..." and looked down at her shoulder, poking a finger through the ragged hole in her jacket and shirt—and finding neither a wound nor any evidence of one.

"There some more stuff you should know...but I do a shit job of explaining things—just ask your cousin, Nero," Dante laughed slightly as he stood and approached a bookshelf. "Verge was always better at that sort of thing...ah! Here it is-" Dante carefully removed what looked like a journal, oddly tender with the object, unlike most everything else Val had seen him interact with. "It isn't finished-but Verge...had been writing the book on hunting, basically. Has a buncha stuff on demons, devils, and most of the famous hunters. If you've got any questions, I'm here, alright kiddo?" He handed the book to Val, seeming to search her face for something.

Val accepted the volume; she could deal with this—research, learn, know what she's up against, what this world is like...like any history project, any assessment—this was familiar territory. She nodded, and Dante seemed to catch the determined spark in her eye. He smiled sadly, it was so damn familiar...As Val dove into her new self assigned "research project", Dante quietly left the room.

/~/PAGE BREAK/~/

Myra awoke after a sparse amount of sleep at ten a.m. Noting that Alec was still sound asleep in the armchair in the room(he thought he was so stealthy) she smiled slightly, albeit sadly. Both he and Val had become so...well, paranoid and protective since Thomas. She had always wanted better for her children—a peaceful childhood, hopefully devoid of the world's evils. _And I have no one but myself to blame for the failure of that dream_, she thought despondently. She quietly exited the room without disturbing Alec.

Padding down the stairs, she saw that Dante was sitting in the front room, a gun disassembled for cleaning laying on the table in front of him. Drawing closer, she saw that he was asleep. Eying the dismantled weapon, Myra shook her head. She knew what he had said about he and Vergil hunting demons like the one that attacked yesterday—but a weapon like that was impractical due to it's weight and recoil. And don't get her started on that sword he was using(and his style when using it! Wide swings like that were ridiculously foolhardy!)...Something didn't sit right. She knew that Dante hadn't told the entire story. Still, at the moment her options were rather limited—at least she remembered where she had stashed her old knives...

Strolling into the kitchen, Myra began preparing breakfast(which included making a pot of coffee—she knew at least she would be running on caffeine today). Last night she had wanted Dante to leave at least for a time while she got her bearings, and she well knew that if food was involved, a man would do anything. Perhaps he knew the true purpose of her request, perhaps he didn't—the result was in her favour either way. Hence how she came to have bacon, sausage, eggs, ingredients for pancakes, milk, coffee, and tea(if Val woke up today...no, when..._when_...her girl was a trooper)ready for this morning.

Myra sighed as she prepared the pancake batter. She had tried to discontinue her family's 'tradition' with her children. Now she would have to teach them to cultivate the talents and reflexes...Though, if she was being honest, they had already done quite a bit of work in that department. At least they hadn't grown up playing mumblety-peg as she had, Myra tried to comfort herself with such thoughts, but she couldn't help but think that the past twenty-four hours, even more so than everything with Thomas, had irrevocably ended Val and Alec's childhood...

/~/PAGE BREAK/~/

Alec stirred, and groaned. He had the mother of all cricks in his neck. Shiiiiiiiiit. Where's an Advil when you need one? Stretching, he heard his neck, back, and various other joints crack and pop. The pain in his neck lessened, but stubbornly remained. He then noticed that his mother was absent from the room.

Rushing down the stairs, he found her in the kitchen, as though yesterday hadn't happened. _Only you, mom..._he thought, shaking his head. He'd always marveled at his mother's uncanny ability to take almost anything in stride, adapting to any situation. But this? _This _took the cake. Demons? Really? They were expected to believe that bullshit? Evidently, Mom did...but still, _demons?_ That's what hurt Val?

He'd believe it when he saw it. Meanwhile, he'd be keeping an eye on Val's 'Uncle'(he still wasn't sure about the guy...)

While Alec contemplated the best way to disarm and incapacitate Dante, Myra spotted him loitering in the shadows by the stairs. "Good morning Alec...Are you going to just lurk or lend your poor mother a hand?"

Coming out of his bloodyminded reverie, Alec nodded, "Sure...what do you need mom?"

"Scramble the first batch of eggs, and keep an eye on the sausages," Myra ordered, turning back to the pancakes.

Alec did as he was told, noting that they were not talking about yesterday. Right. Now...where was he? Oh yeah, overcoming height advantage...

/~/PAGE BREAK/~/

Nero awoke slowly, but soon bolted out of bed, not quite sure where he was. Then the previous day's events sprang to mind, and he calmed slightly. Still, he did not do well in unfamiliar surroundings. At all. Taking a few deep breathes, he shoved down memories from his childhood(if you could call it that). Sitting down on the bed, he sifted through the yesterday's load of info.

The old man could be scary—that was news. They'd already had a chat about family history(which had not ended well), but the old man had never really let any of it _show_. That glare...Nero shuddered slightly. _That_ was scary as..well, Hell. Nero suddenly realized just how much patience his father actually showed on a daily basis.

Next, he had a cousin, and aunt, and a...half-cousin? Step-cousin? What do you call someone like that? Doesn't really matter, Nero supposed. He never really bothered keeping track of all the people his mother kept around. They all drift away eventually(and to some, he was perfectly happy to say 'good riddance')-he didn't see why he should change that policy now.

His musings were interrupted by a smell making it's way into his room. A warm, welcoming...dare he think it, heavenly smell. Food—and it wasn't pizza! His stomach growled, urging him to leave his room. Quietly, he padded down the staircase, and saw that the old man was catching some Zs in the front room. Turning his attention to the kitchen, he saw M...Myra(that was her name, right?) and Alex..no, Alec, cooking a, well, _massive_ breakfast.

"Trying to feed an army?" He asked.

Myra looked up, "Just three teenagers, sweety." She smiled, and reached for a plate, piling on eggs, bacon, sausage, and a sizable stack of pancakes.

Accepting the plate that was shoved toward him across the counter, Nero furrowed his brow, "Sweety?" He did not like nicknames or any of that shit.

Alec laughed, "She's in 'Mrs. Weasely' mode—be glad she isn't calling you Harry!" And then ducked out of his mother's reach. Still, he knew he wasn't wrong—his mother would nurture any child that stood still too long.

"Alec, that's enough," Myra frowned at her son, then softened her features as she turned back to Nero, "I can try to drop the petit nom for now, but old habits die hard, Nero."

Nero was still suspicious, but said, "Thanks...this smells great by the way." He dug into the meal, not actually being able to recall the last time he had eaten anything home cooked. Wait, he remembered now—that old Russian woman his mother used to leave him with. When he was five.

Still in motion, plating up servings for everyone else, Myra responded, "Glad you like it, sw—Nero."

Alec smirked, "Wow, caught yourself the first time, mom—an improvement!"

"Alec Kenneth-" "Mom, no!" "Aquilinus! Pay attention to the eggs!" Myra scowled.

Alec, thoroughly humiliated, returned to stirring the eggs, glaring at them.

Nero raised an eyebrow and sniggered slightly, "Aquilinus?"

Alec threw over his shoulder, "Roman. Like your name, _Nero._"

"I was always told it was Italian for black or dark..." Nero said.

Myra frowned slightly, "Well, it is-but the proper noun is a Roman name meaning 'Strong'. Who told you that?"

"My mother," Nero said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"Hm. I would have thought your father named you..." Myra said, making note to look into the cause of that bitter tone later.

Nero stabbed his eggs with perhaps more vigor than was necessary, "Why's that?"

"The family seems to have something of a naming tradition: Vergil, Dante, and Nero are all of Roman or Italian origin-even Val's name is a variant of the Roman name 'Valerius'...but I suppose you and Val are mostly coincidence," Myra said, sending a moping Alec out of the kitchen with his own plate.

Further discussion was interrupted as a voice drifted to them from the stairs, "Smells heavenly as usual, mother."

Turning, Nero spotted Val, nose buried in some book, waking toward the kitchen.

Myra set down what she was working on and admonished, "What are you doing out of bed? You're injured! Back upstairs young lady!"

Val glanced up from her book, "Mother, no need to get into a tizz. Look at my shoulder."

Myra raised an eyebrow, but obliged. No wound, no scar—nothing. "Valerie..."

"I will explain after I have finished reading this." She indicated the book. "Or you can ask Dante. Evidently it's something on his and my father's side of the family."

Myra and Val held each other's gazes for a long while, and reached a silent agreement.

/ /~/PAGE BREAK/~/

Dante woke up slowly, but soon sped up the process when he realized where the sun was—how long had he been out? He had been cleaning Ivory and...damn...he must have nodded off. Well, he had been awake for more than forty-eight hours...

Hold up...he smelled breakfast...and heard movement in the dining room and kitchen. Well, evidently he hadn't slept _that_ long.

Shuffling toward the kitchen, he followed the scent of coffee.

"'morning...it _is_ still morning, right?" He said by way of greeting.

Nero snorted, "Yeah—you're doing better than usual, Old Man."

"I ain't old, kid," Dante said, as part of their usual exchange. "I smelled coffee, right?"

Myra gestured to the coffee pot from her spot at the table, "Help yourself—I have my cup here and Val was in more of a tea mood today."

Val spoke up, "Not my favourite blend, but it will do."

"Tea, is tea, is tea, is tea..." Alec grumbled.

"Just because you fail to note the glaring differences between, say, Oolong and Darjeeling, does not mean all of us are such unrefined neanderthals," Val shot back.

"Children..." Myra growled.

"Yes mom" Alec said automatically.

"Of course mother..." Val said, returning to her reading.

Dante chuckled—he couldn't help it. It reminded him of his childhood...those were the good days...no, no, he was not strolling down memory lane. No. Sitting down, he addressed Val, "So, kiddo, enjoying the book?"

Without looking up, Val responded, "It is quite informative. Also, the illustrations are quite useful...Who did them?"

"Your father—that was his project, he wouldn't let me near it. All of the research and whatnot was one hundred percent Verge," Dante seemed to lose himself in a memory for a moment, but then said, "Anything else?"

Val shook her head, "No...but you may want to speak to my mother. About your side of the family's 'unique heritage'."

Dante caught sight of the look Myra was giving him, and groaned, "Can't a man have his coffee before being ambushed?"

"We will be talking—you have one hour to wake up completely," Myra stated in a tone that brooked to argument.

Nero smirked, "So, should I arrange your funeral, Old Man? I know Lady'll be all broken up—she won't be able to collect on your debt anymore!"

"Shut up, kid," Dante muttered into his coffee cup.

**AN: I hope that the longest yet chapter will assuage the bloodthirstiness of those out for my head on a pike XD **

**Oh, and reviews will earn possible spoilers/hints-not just virtual cookies.**


	8. The Talk(No, not that one-the other one)

**AN: I am here to warn all of you, this chapter was fueled mostly by caffeine and willpower(a high unstable mixture at the best of times) and was also heavily influenced by sleep deprivation. Anyway, onto the story, more little hints about Myra...and no, she isn't a hunter, never was, nor were her parents. She's from interesting stock though, I'll give you all that much.**

One hour later found Myra sitting across from Dante in the sitting room. Dante shifted uncomfortably under Myra's glare. Sure, he could take on most any demon or devil...but have you ever heard that saying about "Hell hath no fury"? Yeah, it's true—human women are just that scary. Dante remembered from his father's journals that even the Legendary Dark Knight wholeheartedly agreed.

Myra meanwhile was running through her quick index of possibilities for the 'unique' heritage mentioned earlier. She couldn't exactly be angry that Vergil hadn't mentioned anything—she hadn't mentioned anything of her background(as far as she was concerned, _that_ could stay dead and buried wherever it had ended up). But, damn it all, she was _pissed._ She'd always known Val was...well...she'd always thought that it was _her_ background coming into play.

She then noted that Dante didn't seem keen to start this conversation. _Fine. Have it your way, you asshole._

"Well?" Myra snapped, "What is it? Assassins? Or do you have generations of demon hunters in your background? Dhampyr? Nephilim?" She had ordered those guesses from most to least likely, in her mind. Spitting each guess as though it were a curse.

Dante internally laughed at the last one, _That's as far from the truth as you can get..._But he knew better than to show any humor on his features. That wouldn't be good for his health—time around Lady had taught him that much. He carefully answered, "No, sorta, hell no, and good grief, no."

Myra glared, "Then what is it?" venom dripped from every word in liberal quantities.

Dante swallowed nervously, suddenly getting exactly what Vergil saw in this woman—she's just vicious enough for Verge to like. "Have you ever heard the term...er...cambion?"

Myra's eyes sparked—_Well, that explained quite a bit_. Just her luck though, she mused, before saying, "Yes—it's the term commonly employed to describe half-demons..."

Dante winced, _Nope, Verge definitely had said nothing to her_, "Half-_devil_, when it comes to Verge and I. Mom was a huntress, and dad...he'd turned against Hell long before he met mom. You're...er...taking this really well."

Myra gave him a long look, "Be surprised by nothing, else be surprised by all. I've learned to take most things in stride." She was also reassessing her mental notes upon how to deal with the situation should Dante turn out to be a threat. Decapitation took care of most anything, right?...yes, head, heart, decapitation, the unholy trio. "I do, of course, expect proof."

"Right..." Dante said, wondering just how he could do that, short of taking Ivory to his head... "What would you consider 'proof'?" He smiled uneasily, _please be something easy, please be something easy..._

Myra pondered for a moment, "What are your range of capabilities?"

Dante ticked them off on his fingers as they came to mind, "Strength, speed, limited shape-shifting, healing..., Verge could teleport—but I never mastered that. Oh, yeah, and I regularly chuck the laws of physics out the window."

Myra lifted an eyebrow, "Shape-shifting?"

_Dammit, dammit, dammit, why'd I have to open my big mouth? _Dante grimaced inwardly. Vergil was right—he did talk way too much. "Yeah...it's not exactly easy, and it's really draining..."

Myra rolled her eyes, "Get on with it. I want some damn proof about all of this shit."

Dante was a little surprised at the curse, _what happened to miss 'darn it all, I burnt the cookies'? _But said, "Right—just, er, don't freak out on me-'k?"

Myra gave him a disparaging look, "I'm a mother—children quickly cure one of any squeamishness or fraility."

Dante shrugged in a 'suit yourself' way, and began to focus...

Myra backed up a few paces and withdrew the knife she had from it's calf-sheath. She couldn't help it, it was reflex, near instinctual. Holding the knife ready she glared, "Fair enough, you've made your point."

Dante detriggered and sat back down—doing his best to not look threatening after that was difficult.

Myra slowly replaced the knife in it's sheath, "I believe you."

"What was with the knife?" Dante asked. Yeah, that sorta thing's common with hunters, but regular old civvies? He was pretty sure it was odd...

"I've carried one since I was a teenager," Myra shrugged as though that explained it all.

"Right...so...You don't have..." Dante started.

"An issue with it? I have issue with being kept in the dark for more than a decade, I have issue having to remain here under virtual house arrest, _that_ is what I have issue with," Myra glared.

Dante raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Hey—Verge hadn't said boo about you—I'd have gotten in touch if he had!"

"Really?" Myra said in a dangerous tone, "He was not just your brother, but your twin, correct?"

Dante nodded. It was a resemblance that was hard to miss.

"He _proposed_ to me, and didn't deign tell you? I find that hard to believe!" Myra snarled at Dante, pouring every once of frustration and anger she was currently carrying into those words.

"Proposed?" Dante all but whispered. _Verge...why couldn't you trust me?_

Myra's hand flew to her neck and produced a chain holding a silver and sapphire ring, "Proposed! With this!" She was holding the chain so tightly that her knuckles were white. "I could never bring myself to part with it..."

Dante's eyes followed the swinging ring as though hypnotized. _Wards_. Now it made sense...that's why demons hadn't bothered them... "He warded it..."

"What?" Myra asked, noting the strange behavior.

"He warded that ring with more protections than...well...should be possible," Dante stated. How the hell had Verge managed to squeeze all of that into/onto something that frickin' small?! Damn, there were wards so nothing of hellish origin would notice her, so that physical attacks would slow, or be deflected somewhat, there were even energy reserves! "He...wow...he really loved you." Dante sat back with that realization. It hadn't been a fling that Verge hadn't bothered to mention. That ring was the nail in the coffin for that idea. _Why couldn't you trust me?_

Myra too sat down, the fire of her anger fading somewhat, "So he did..." She closed her eyes briefly, and all pain evident in her voice a moment before disappeared from her manner. "Well? What now?"

"What now?" Dante asked blankly.

"Yes, what now—as in, school, jobs, _life_." Myra said as though that explained it all. When Dante still seemed a little lost, she sighed and continued, "Are we—the kids and I—now living here? If we are, how will the children get to school? The buses don't come this far out of town. Is your boy, Nero, going to attend the local school? Or are you two going back to-?"

"L.A." Dante said automatically.

"Yes—this is what I'm talking about. Just because life is suddenly turned on it's ear doesn't mean we get to just sit around and not go on with things!" Myra snapped.

"Er...right," Dante said hesitantly. "Well, for starters, yeah, living here is probably your best bet—Vergil put up the wards and they aren't letting anything through anytime soon. Nero and I'll stay put for, well, the foreseeable future—the demons know where you are now. Yeah, the kid'll go to school—I'm not that bad of a parent. And as for how they get there, I'll drive 'em."

"Tomorrow's a school day...but Nero's not enrolled yet...I'll handle the paperwork...might need your signature for a few things..." Myra seemed to mumble to herself. Dante just sat back and stayed quiet—she wasn't freaking out or trying to kill him; that was a win as far as he was concerned. He watched as she began to pace, making note that giving her a puzzle or problem to solve kept her from blowing up—useful knowledge.

"But it's the last week off school...no, still best to get the paperwork in ASAP..." Myra continued, then summed it up with, "We're going to be busy tomorrow."

"We?" Dante asked.

"We." Myra nodded, "Nero is your son, I need transport, Val and Alec need to attend school tomorrow—need I go on?"

Dante ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head, "Nope—I got the picture. Busy."

Myra smiled, "Nice to know we have that sorted out." Just then, the doors slammed open, revealing a rather..._irritated_Valerie.

She stalked into the room, throwing off an aura of menace that Dante had only ever seen outdone by Vergil, and a few minutes previously, Myra.

Val nodded to her mother, saying, "Oh—you'll enjoy this little tidbit, mother. I take it that he has explained what I am a quarter of?"

Myra nodded, "Vergil and Dante are cambions, yes, we covered that dear—now what has you in a right tizz?"

Dante looked bemusedly at Myra, _How does she do that? Rant and rave one moment, and become sweet mommy the next? _

Val said, "Oh, give me one moment...dear Uncle here has some explaining to do." She ran a finger over the book Dante had handed to her earlier, as though caressing a weapon. Dante knew those motions—he had to, having known Lady so long. This did not look good—what the hell had Vergil put in there to piss her off this badly?

Val flipped through the book to a page she had marked and thrust it in Dante's face, "Pray tell, how did you neglect to mention this?!"

Dante's eyes were first drawn to an expert illustration of his mother, clutching her favourite weapons and glaring out at the reader. Val interrupted, "Other page, imbecile!" Dante's eyes flicked over to the opposing page to see his father rendered in pen and ink, smirking up at the reader, Yamato casually resting on his purple clad shoulder. Then there was an illustration of his devil form, swinging Rebellion. _Haha, very funny Verge._ Dante briefly thought, before saying, "Oh, right...that."

_"__That's_ all you have to say?!_" _Val erupted. "The fact that my _grandfather_ is Sparda, and all you can say is 'oh, right, that'?!"

"Hey, I told you I was sh-...er...bad at explaining things! That's why I gave you the book!" Dante defended.

Myra looked at Dante, "Sparda? Really?"

Dante nodded, moving slowly away from his still rather pissed off niece, "Yeah, 'cept the fairy tale has gotten, well, you know how legends are. Like that whole 'fell in love and turned human' thing? That always made me laugh. I mean, if anything he used his abilities _more_ to avoid mom's wrath..."

"NOT THE POINT!" Val raged, "Didn't you think that was worth mentioning!?"

"I did! I thought you got it," Dante reasoned.

"You gave vague reference to the legend, you said _nothing_ about family history! I'm not asking for a full accounting of my genealogy, but knowing about my grandparents—you know, what might have a very real effect upon my life—would be nice!" Val snarled.

Myra drew a sharp breath, "Val, sweety, calm down a little."

Val whirled, skeptical eyebrow raised, "Mother, I know you tend to be cool under fire, but even for you—this is unexpected."

Myra didn't answer the questioning look, "Where's your brother?"

Val said curtly, "Debating video-games with Nero, last I checked. Now," she turned back to Dante, "Any other little surprises? Any other legends on the family tree? Hmm?"

"Not that I'm in know about," Dante said shaking his head, "Now, have you cooled out kiddo?"

Val glared, "For the time being—but do not test me, Uncle."

Dante chuckled, "Whatever you say, kiddo..."

Val was about to retort when raised voices reached their ears:

"XBOX 360!"

"PS3, HOW BIG OF AN IDIOT ARE YOU?!"

"NOWHERE NEAR AS BAD AS YOU, PUSS-FOR-BRAINS!"

Myra stalked out of the room, growling, "Boys..." Just as Nero and Alec devolved into creative name calling.

"ALECSANDR KENNETH AQUILINUS REINHARDT! LANGUAGE!"

Dante winced in sympathy. At a young age, he and Verge had decided that their middle names were top-secret, never to be divulged. He felt for the kid, he did.


	9. School is Hell

**AN:** **This is mostly filler and should have been a bunch of drabbles in all likelihood, but I wanted to update this...so...*shrugs***

**Anyway, I've had a shit day, so this is not my best work-go ahead and point out anything you think should probably be cut/edited/etc. I welcome the much needed input. **

**As always, enjoy:**

At school the next day:

Val and Alec walked toward their high-school form where they were hastily dropped off. Val hissed, "We're going to act like nothing happened, clear?"

Alec rolled his eyes, "No, I thought I'd yell from the nearest rooftop that my mother was engaged to a cambion."

Val smacked him up the back of his head, _"Do_ be quiet._"_

"Geez," Alec grumbled, rubbing the back of his head, "No need for violence."

Just then, something highly energetic and chattering slammed into Val.

Val didn't move an inch, and just glanced down, raised an eyebrow, saying, "Good morning Teresa—do me favour? Don't-"

Teresa suddenly released her friend and said, "Itriedcallingyouallweekend!Iwassoworrieddidyoukno wsomeoneattackedthatcoffeeshopwewereat?Ithoughtyou werehurtorsomethingansweryourphonenextimetechnopho be!"

Val pinched the bridge of her nose, "-do that...And I'm sorry, I was out of cell range." She then gave a highly abridged version of the weekend.

Teresa said, "Okay, I get that your trying to get to know some family better, but why live with them? That seems...I dunno..."

"Rushed? No, I hadn't noticed," Valerie said with a straight face. "The truth is..." She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, "The truth is...my paternal grandfather evidently had some rather powerful enemies. They didn't know about mother or I until now, but now that they do..." She trailed off. She had to make this look good. "That was who attacked the coffee shop. Just after my mother came in the door. If my uncle hadn't been there..."

Teresa's eyes widened, "Mafia?"

Alec fought to keep from laughing, _much worse, Tere, much worse._

Val bit her lip, "Something like that." _I'm not_ **lying**, Val consoled herself.

Other chimed in, _Lying is a human trait as Uncle Dante said, careful where you tred... _

_What is that even supposed to mean?_ Val shot back.

Other calmly retorted, _Know the reason to my rhyme, then know it is time._

The bell rang, preventing further questioning.

Weeks later:

Dante was sound asleep, sprawled across the red sheets of his bed, snoring away, dead to the world. Nothing was going to interrupt his first good night of sleep in ages—no sounds of Lady yelling for him, no customers who were morning people...just him and his dreams...which were pretty good at the moment...He smiled in his sleep a little. Maybe Lady yelling wasn't so bad...

Meanwhile, Myra was flying around the downstairs, making sure that Val, Alec, and Nero were ready for school. Then there was also the fact that she and Dante were supposed to go fetch her and the kids' things from her rental today. She had pounded on Dante's door every ten minutes for the last hour, but he still hadn't bothered to show his face. She threw Alec's nearly forgotten backpack at him eliciting a "Watch it mom!" before scowling and marching up the stairs. _Men, if it weren't for us women, everything would be late, filthy, and not to mention half-assed!_

Myra had not had time for a cup of coffee this morning; her temper was at the wheel and her better judgment was cowering in the backseat. This did not bode well for Dante.

Slamming the door open, Myra glared at the form still sound asleep and snoring on the bed, and began muttering "Lazy s.o.b...going to make everyone late...next time I'll just snag the keys..." as she stalked over to one side of the bed and untucked the fitted sheet.

Dante was quite blissfully unaware of all of this. He was still smiling like an idiot at his currently rather pleasing dreamland.

Myra suddenly yelled "GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT OF BED!" and gave an upward tug on the sheet she had untucked.

Dante pretty much flew off of the bed, yelling "Fuck!" as he hit the floor.

One may ask how Myra could manage such a feat, considering that someone of Dante's stature and build isn't exactly _light._ The answer is twofold: basic working knowledge of physics, specifically leverage, and the fact that dear Myra is deceptively strong for her 5'6" height.

"LANGUAGE!" Myra roared, "Now, get dressed—you have ten minutes before we have to be out the door! It's your son's first day of school—hop to it!"

Dante threw on some clothes and shoes and stumbled down the stairs, grumbling all the least she hadn't used ice water...

/_/PAGE BREAK/_/

As they approached the school, Nero thought it was pretty ironic—the paperwork had come through just in time for him to attend the last day of school. He was pretty sure life, the universe, whatever hated him. He glanced down at his arm. Even though it was going to be into the mid-nineties today, he was wearing his usual hoodie, had bandaged his arm and was wearing a glove over his hand. Sometimes he wondered how he'd managed to keep it quiet from everyone—but quickly chalked it up to luck.

He'd never liked school. Kids always had something to say about his hair, or his mom. More often both. He tugged the hood over his head. Might as well put off the nonsense for as long as possible. He didn't care how warm it was.

As usual, Teresa was there and ready to greet/glomp Val. (Nero asked Alec, "Does that chick have a deathwish?" to which Alec said, "Nah—just best-friend immunity.") She only noticed Nero after Val had finished making her slow down to normal speech speed. "So you're Val's cousin? Geez, does anyone in your family know what the word 'heatstroke' means?" She glanced at the hoodie and then at Val's long sleeved shirt and wool slacks. Alec laughed, "I don't think they do, Tere—you should see what Nero's dad wears!"

Nero smirked, "Yeah, the old man makes wearing wool in this weather look normal."

"I don't think _anyone_ can make Val look normal," Teresa smirked back. Then said, "Why are going all Assassin's Creed anyway? Have a secret identity?"

Nero shifted uncomfortably, "Maybe..."

Alec jumped in, "Nah, he's just wanted in five states." Nero glared at Alec, "Dude, I was joking—but seriously, thinking that the PS3 is sooo superior to the XBOX 360? That should be a felony." And with that, he ran off.

Nero yelled "COWARD!"

To which Alec replied, "Cowards run, but generals retreat! I'm General Alecsandr!"

Val shook her head, her dear brother could be such an idiot sometimes... "Anyway, Teresa, I believe Nero has some classes to get to...?"

Nero took the hint and headed to the office for his schedule.

On his way, he bumped into something. Scratch that, some_one._ Someone who more resembled some_thing._ Nero wondered for a split second when they started educating gorillas in high-schools when the guy he'd bumped into growled, "Watch where you're going pipsqueak."

The guy was just going top move on, Nero knew he should leave well enough alone.

But since when did common sense dictate anything?

/_/ PAGE BREAK/_/

Myra was just moving the last of the first load of boxes into the Impala when her cell phone started ringing. Glancing at the number, her eyes widened—it was the school. Quickly flipping the phone open she did her best to keep her voice even, "Yes?"

She listened, and occasionally answered, "Yes, I'm his aunt...yes, I can be there soon—no, don't bother, I was just talking to him...yes, we'll be there promptly." She shut the phone with perhaps unnecessary force.

Just then, Dante exited the house carrying three more boxes, "What's up?"

Myra frowned, "Nero was fighting in the halls."

Dante groaned, "Already? I thought I told him...Whatever, let's go...How bad's the damage?"

"From what I could tell? Not bad—maybe a bloody nose or something," Myra said. She wasn't happy—but she knew it could have been worse.

Dante frowned, he knew the kid could pull his punches, but there was going to be a long _talk_ later.

Damn. He needed to stop sounding so...nah, he wasn't even gonna think it.


	10. It's the principal of the thing

**AN:** **It's short, I know. This is the last hurrah before I go on hiatus 'til mid June. I'd like to thank everyone who followed, favourited, reviewed, and read and assure you that I WILL BE BACK. I have this story mapped well into it's third installment, plus a possible prequel-I just don't have the time to /type/ at the moment. I also may rewrite the first few chapters and add some stuff too, so keep an eye out in June.  
**

Principal Willis liked to think of himself as a man who kept order. He made sure his desk was meticulous, his paperwork up to date, and the school orderly. Well, as orderly as any building containing this many teenagers could be. He did not like anything throwing a monkey wrench in this lovely little world of his. Originally, he had not thought much of Nero Chevalier-Schwarze. Odd sort of name, but he didn't have a record, so he shouldn't have been a concern.

Now, Principal Willis sat glaring at the new student sitting before him—he would turn his attention to Mahler(who was nursing a bloody nose amongst other minor injuries) later, that boy had always been trouble—and Chevalier-Schwarze was glaring right back. The nerve of children these days, in _his_ day...but no, that was considered heavy handed and barbaric nowadays, wasn't it? Pity.

The child had even dyed his hair a ridiculous color. Willis had seen it all, blue, green, pink(even on boys), but silver was new to him. Lord, he hoped it didn't catch on.

His internal grumblings about today's youth was interrupted by the secretary poking her head into the office and saying, "Nero's aunt and father are here."

Willis nodded, thinking, _Where's the boy's mother? That would explain his troubling behavior...raised in an unconventional environment—it only leads to trouble, I've seen it time and time again..._conveniently forgetting that Mahler came from a family with a happily married mother and father and one sister—and we can all see how such a conventional environment shaped _him _into such an upstanding young man.

Willis's first shock was who the boy's aunt was—he'd seen her before...yes, she was Mrs. Reinhardt...no, wait, she'd gotten a divorce...that's right...what's her name now? Oh dear...

His second was the sight of who was obviously the boy's father. Evidently, the hair wasn't dyed. It was genetic. Albinism? Strange.

Looking the man up and down, Willis decided that he didn't like him. Too...too casual, too devil may care—and he dressed in too flashy a style. Honestly, who wears that much red outside of a comic book?

Ms. Callahan (he'd managed to remember her new name, happy day!) was glaring daggers at the boy. Willis couldn't help but approve a bit—_someone_ knew that you just couldn't let children get away with sort of thing.

The boy's father, however, looked at him and asked, "Who started it?" Willis knew what that meant. This was one of those parents that so long as their precious offspring didn't _start_ something, the child could get away with anything. Just peachy. Now he _really_ didn't like him.

The boy mumbled something. His father put a hand to his ear, "Sorry kid, couldn't quite hear that."

The boy glared at him, "I...I kinda did..."

The father crossed his arms, "Either you did or you didn't."

"Nero, trust me when I say you're in enough trouble—truth. Now," Ms. Callahan said in a tone that chilled.

"Fine! He insulted me and I shoved him, and it went from there. Happy?" Nero exploded.

His father's eyes narrowed, "No. Not really." Willis briefly thought that perhaps he should reevaluate this man.

Willis cleared his throat, "Ms. Callahan, and Mr...?"

The man turned to him with the ice in his glare suddenly gone, "Call me Dante."

"Right," oh, great, one of _those_, "Dante...your son was caught brawling in the halls. Now, it is the last day of school, so there isn't much I can do—but I did not want such an incident going unpunished."

"Oh, it won't," Dante said with a smile that seemed just slightly...off. Perhaps he definitely should reevaluate this man. "He is not going to have much fun in the near future."

Nero sunk in his chair slightly.

Ms. Callahan stepped in with, "Yes...I can think of a number of tasks that are...character building..." Willis was happy they weren't taking this lightly—but that sounded a little too ominous, even to him.

He ventured, "What did you have in mind?"

Ms. Callahan smiled slightly, "Oh, the usual, increased chores, clearing brambles, cleaning the bathroom-" Nero flinched at that one. "-and I'm sure Dante an come up with others..."

Willis relaxed slightly, well, that was all right then—character building indeed.

"Oh, and Mr. Willis? Do you mind if we take Val and Alec home too? It is the last day of school, and we have an awfully long drive out to the house...recently moved, you see," Ms. Callahan smiled tiredly.

"Of course," Willis found himself saying—it was a half-day, after all, and he remembered Valerie at least, model student. Why not?

As the family exited the office, Willis could have sworn he heard, "This means no sword or shooting practice kid—uhuh, no buts!" But what the hell sort of family would have regular _sword _practice? Perhaps he should get his ears checked...

**AN: Again, many apologies for the hiatus, but it must be done so that I don't end up epically failing life.**


	11. Life's like a card game

**AN: I know this is incredibly short, but I am BACK. I may not update as often, but I _am_ working on this again!**

/_/PAGE BREAK/_/

In the car, Nero did his level best to avoid the glare that was directed at him through the rear-view mirror. This was proving difficult, however. The old man might not glare like this much, but damn, Nero could _feel_ it.

He continued looking out the window, once again wondering why he always made the stupid decision. _Impulsive_ his teachers had always called him. Yeah, he pretty much had to agree with them now.

Valerie was watching her cousin. She knew that he was in for it. Mahler might be deserving of a beat down, but she had already been given the "don't start anything with regular humans" speech. Nero might have killed Mahler today if he hadn't been careful. _Oh, like that would have been a disservice to the human _gene-pool,Other said. Valerie snarled, _Shut up—the legalities would have been messy, not to mention the attention it would have drawn. I suppose we can toss guilt in there for good measure. _She could hear the smirk as Other said, _Funny how you listed guilt as an after-thought..._

Alec shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Nero had done what he'd always wanted to do to Mahler—so he wanted to slap him on the back and say 'well done', but damn...both the adults were acting like someone _died. _Seriously, Mahler was a brutish idiot who probably started the whole thing anyways, what's wrong with Nero taking him down a peg?

Dante was doing his level best not to crush the steering wheel. The kid might not think much of this—but he _knew_ how it could have turned out. Sophomore year, he'd put a kid in the hospital. If it hadn't been for Verge pulling him away and then knocking him out, he might've killed him. Nero didn't have a level-headed twin to pull him away, he needed to learn control...big time.

Myra stared ahead, an unreadable expression on her face. Val was the only one who seemed to notice it. It was the same look she'd seen right after she'd thrown Thomas into the wall.

/~/Page Break/~/

As everyone made their way into the house, Dante placed a hand on Nero's shoulder, silently signaling the teen that the dreaded conversation was going to happen sooner, rather than later.

Nero spun around, hearing the door click shut behind him. Why did he suddenly feel like fleeing into the house and finding a nice place to hide?

Dante sat on the steps and motioned for Nero to sit to. When the teen hesitated, Dante scowled, and Nero hastened to comply.

Sighing, Dante said, "Listen kid, I...it's less that I'm angry at you and more that I'm worried, 'kay?"

Nero flushed angrily, "Like I can't take care of-!"

"_Not-_" Dante cut off the angry tirade, "What I meant. Geez, I really suck at this don't I? Alright, let's try this—how would you have felt if you'd put that guy in the hospital—or worse?"

The angry retort died in Nero's throat, "...Bad...I guess..."

Dante nodded, "It's not that I think you can't handle yourself kid, it's that you're too good at it. If a demon picks on you, go ahead and cut loose, but we have to be careful around humans, got it?"

Nero scratched his nose nervously and glanced away, "Yeah, yeah, I got it old man..."

"Kid." Nero wouldn't look at him. Dante cleared his throat, "Nero," _that_ got his attention, "I don't like it much more than you do—hell, I'd love to be a normal guy most days, but I was dealt the cards in life that I have. The best we can do is bluff."

Nero smirked, "'cept you couldn't bluff to save your life, old man."

"Actually, _only_ when the stakes are that high," Dante smiled slightly. "Now, that's about as emotional as I'm gonna get today...about those 'character-building' activities Myra was talking about..."

Nero couldn't help but groan.


	12. Chapter 12--it's fluffy

**AN: Alrighty-lots of stuff has been going on in my life, so this is just a filler/fluffy thing. Hope you enjoy. It doesn't necessarily happen right after the last chapter, but I needed to post something...so yeah...have fun. Let me know what you think. Oh, and there is a minimal proofread, and loves to mess up my stuff-heads up.**

Myra had taken the boys out to get some new clothes, and Val had expressed her displeasure at the idea of accompanying them. ("Put up with those two apes throughout the mall? Tell me, did the fires of hell see fit to extinguish themselves?" ) Hence, she found the time to sit in the now quiet living room and read her father's research notes. She had steadily been working her way through the notes and sketchbooks after finishing his incomplete magnum opus, devouring the written words as a starving man falls upon food.

However, the astute observer would note that her eyes hadn't shifted for the past twenty minutes, and she hadn't turned the page for a good half-hour.

She was using the book as an excuse to think uninterrupted, really.

It was terribly ironic...for years, she had loathed the man she had thought was her father, Thomas — even went so far as to think up ways to 'dispose' of him after he started hitting her mother. Now...now he didn't matter. He was gone and out of their lives, for good, hopefully. She had the added solace of knowing she was of no relation to him.

Her father had been a warrior, a scholar, had loved her mother, had been meticulous, had good taste — but she could never say that she _knew _him.

She knew all of her mother's little quirks and oddities;from the knife she often carried, to that she took an inhuman amount of sweetener in her tea and coffee. If you _know _someone, you know all the little things. She knew that Alec's joking and smiling hid a chess-master who could be her equal in bloodymindedness. She knew that he had been teaching himself how to hack. She knew that he only refused to touch tea because it irked her. She knew the little things.

Her father was a distant stranger. She knew he liked blue,but anyone looking at his closet could tell you that (though he did own one suit in green);she knew plenty of things. But they were the obvious things. She would never have a conversation with him, never learn the little mannerisms, gestures, and quirks that were unique to him. She could guess at some, since her uncle couldn't hide the twinge of sorrow that crossed his face whenever she unknowingly emulated her father. But it wasn't the same.

Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, since Dante came into the room and said "Something bothering ya', kiddo?"

Val looked up, hesitated, and said at length, "What was my father like?"

Dante seemed to take pause."Verge...damn, how do I sum him up...?"

Val shook her head."I can already 'sum him up' —scholar, warrior, loyal, sarcastic, chivalrous, slightly aloof — loves blue, but that's not what I meant. It's the little things that let us know someone."

Dante opened his mouth as though to say something, shut it, ran his hand through his hair, and appeared as though he was having an inner battle with himself. After a few minutes he suddenly turned around, saying, "Be right back..."

Val's eyebrows met as she scowled, why did he have to be cryptic? He was probably just fetching a photo album or sighed. Why had she bothered saying anything? It wasn't as though anyone could tell you all of someone's little quirks —and even if one could, what would be the point? Part of getting to know someone was observing and discovering his idiosyncrasies...Why couldn't she have done what she'd always done, locked her emotions down and out of the way? Now there was going to be a long, awkward (for her) and painful (for her uncle)conversation that neither of them would end up being happy with...

Val's ears picked up footsteps coming down the stairs...Strange, he'd changed up his stride. The heavy, messy footfalls she had grown accustomed to hearing were replaced with a more measured, stealthy —subtle, even —stride. Strange indeed. She closed her eyes briefly, she'd just tell him to never mind,that she was being stupid and sentimental,that she'd gotten to know her father through the journals...

She had turned as she sensed his presence at the door-

-and almost dropped the book she was holding.

On a conscious level, she knew her uncle was standing in the doorway,but it was as though a completely different person was there. He had combed his hair back into a style that spiked in the back, was wearing a royal blue silk shirt under a grey vest with matching trousers and brown shoes. Even how he held his face was different,much more impassive and difficult to read, not quite smiling, not quite frowning,eyes that seemed to take in the entire room and judge all things they gazed upon.

A slight, very slight, smile — more a cousin to a smirk —bent his lips as he said, "An answer to your question, as per your request ..."

Val was still speechless.

He tsked slightly. "And I was under the impression that you were an eloquent young woman..."

All she could do was ask, "How...?"

"There is a distinctive tactical advantage in each being able to imitate the other," he answered. "Opponents tend to find it intimidating, for example..."

"Or answering the unanswerable..." Val murmured.

He inclined his head. "Quite."

"Thank you," Val said, genuine emotion briefly replacing the usual aloofness in her voice.

He was silent, simply closing his eyes and smiling sadly.

When he looked up again, he was undeniably Dante again, ruffling his hair back into his usual style. "Anytime kiddo—I'm just sorry I can't manage it for longer...it's..."

"Taxing," Val said, nodding.

Dante breathed, "Yeah..." She'd summed it up in a word. She had a really talent for that sort of thing. It was one of those little things you notice.


End file.
